Friday, October 24, 2003
(Written posthumourously)
19 Oct 2003
I remember times that now seem so distant and surreal, when our everydays overlay each other's. It feels like there were so few. I have more memories of trying to remember you now, than I have of you.
But vaguely still I remember standing on the shadowy periphery of that brilliance that you constantly gave off, watching your eyes and lips slide into that familiar yet indescribable grin, and feeling my own lips twitch involuntarily in response.
So long ago now. I'm lying in bed writing by the dim lamplight of my bedside light, my pen oozing a damp shadow with every stroke. Funny how you never thought you'd lose your old friend from yonks ago you said, once upon a time. Funny how J. was right, and yet so wrong. Funny how you were just wrong.
So it seems we're all grown up now. But sometimes, strangely, I almost expect my bedside phone to ring.
My bedside phone will ring in my freezer-sized hostel room, and as I pick up your "hello?" will bring light to my dawn, and with it a mild sinus tachy.
My bedside phone will ring and I will dive quietly onto my bed for it to stop it - and I forget - but yes, eventually mum will wake up anyway and, bedgragged with bad bedheaded ill-temper, stagger in and hiss fiercely at me to Go to SLEEP.
My bedside phone is silent. I don't even know the number to it now.
I shrug into my white coat everyday and I'm sucked into it till I knock off. I worry about old men who just want to go home to their wives, dying suddenly of ruptured AAAs that I found incidentally on examination - how will their wives cope then?
Sometimes I relive that question you voiced once, What's the point? What's it all for?
My last successful crash was weeks, maybe months ago.
I don't worry about what you think of me anymore. I haven't done for ages now.
As I walk home after watching Gladiator in the mess, my world crumbles as I empathise with Maximus. I too yearn for the welcoming embrace of death, the door opening to reunited love beyond. Except that there is no one on the other side of my door - If I were to die, now, this moment, I feel like I would pass in gentle gratitude. To what End? I tell myself, it would be good, to see God.
I don't need anybody to die for.
I shiver as the wind pries chill fingers through the buttons of my billowing great coat and gaze up into the starlit sky that I never saw in my childhood, except on film.
And I can almost feel the balmy breeze on my body as I lie on my back, next to - I can almost smell your hair, sense your presence - you, in our teenage years, marvelling with you at the myriad constellations - so, so many! So many. Countless.
But it never happened in this reality. And the times for that have long since passed.
I am too old.
I don't need anybody to live for. I have myself and my dreams, what few remain.
I send you my love from the past, K; almost gone now and cast out into the random tides of existence. I toyed with the idea of a letter in a bottle, thrown into the sea for a while, but the sea is too far away from right now.
May it find, and touch your life someday.
May you be well, always, my friend.
Happy Birthday.
19 Oct 2003
I remember times that now seem so distant and surreal, when our everydays overlay each other's. It feels like there were so few. I have more memories of trying to remember you now, than I have of you.
But vaguely still I remember standing on the shadowy periphery of that brilliance that you constantly gave off, watching your eyes and lips slide into that familiar yet indescribable grin, and feeling my own lips twitch involuntarily in response.
So long ago now. I'm lying in bed writing by the dim lamplight of my bedside light, my pen oozing a damp shadow with every stroke. Funny how you never thought you'd lose your old friend from yonks ago you said, once upon a time. Funny how J. was right, and yet so wrong. Funny how you were just wrong.
So it seems we're all grown up now. But sometimes, strangely, I almost expect my bedside phone to ring.
My bedside phone will ring in my freezer-sized hostel room, and as I pick up your "hello?" will bring light to my dawn, and with it a mild sinus tachy.
My bedside phone will ring and I will dive quietly onto my bed for it to stop it - and I forget - but yes, eventually mum will wake up anyway and, bedgragged with bad bedheaded ill-temper, stagger in and hiss fiercely at me to Go to SLEEP.
My bedside phone is silent. I don't even know the number to it now.
I shrug into my white coat everyday and I'm sucked into it till I knock off. I worry about old men who just want to go home to their wives, dying suddenly of ruptured AAAs that I found incidentally on examination - how will their wives cope then?
Sometimes I relive that question you voiced once, What's the point? What's it all for?
My last successful crash was weeks, maybe months ago.
I don't worry about what you think of me anymore. I haven't done for ages now.
As I walk home after watching Gladiator in the mess, my world crumbles as I empathise with Maximus. I too yearn for the welcoming embrace of death, the door opening to reunited love beyond. Except that there is no one on the other side of my door - If I were to die, now, this moment, I feel like I would pass in gentle gratitude. To what End? I tell myself, it would be good, to see God.
I don't need anybody to die for.
I shiver as the wind pries chill fingers through the buttons of my billowing great coat and gaze up into the starlit sky that I never saw in my childhood, except on film.
And I can almost feel the balmy breeze on my body as I lie on my back, next to - I can almost smell your hair, sense your presence - you, in our teenage years, marvelling with you at the myriad constellations - so, so many! So many. Countless.
But it never happened in this reality. And the times for that have long since passed.
I am too old.
I don't need anybody to live for. I have myself and my dreams, what few remain.
I send you my love from the past, K; almost gone now and cast out into the random tides of existence. I toyed with the idea of a letter in a bottle, thrown into the sea for a while, but the sea is too far away from right now.
May it find, and touch your life someday.
May you be well, always, my friend.
Happy Birthday.
